


Never Cursed Your Name

by shadowsapiens



Category: Doctrine of Labyrinths - Sarah Monette
Genre: First time with a man, M/M, Mutual Jealousy, Possessive Sex, Sibling Incest, Unhealthy Power Dynamics, slight praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 18:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsapiens/pseuds/shadowsapiens
Summary: He said, “You should come,” and “I want you there,” and it didn’t trip the obligation but it may as well have. Mildmay can never say no to eyes like that.





	Never Cursed Your Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



> Happy Smut Swap! I adored your prompts, and couldn't get the jealousy and possessive sex out of my head. I hope this works for you!

He hates these parties. Fancy cakes and fruity liquors and conversations like knife fights, only if you really draw a knife you’ll be clapped in irons. Mildmay doesn’t know how to win in a room like this.

But Felix asked him to come, and his mismatched eyes were so huge and bright. He said, “You should come,” and “I want you there,” and it didn’t trip the obligation but it may as well have. Mildmay can never say no to eyes like that.

That landed him here, and he spent maybe half a minute with Felix before one of his wizard friends—or mortal enemies, hard to tell—swooped in on them, and then Felix was gone. Of course. Like always. 

Mildmay leans against an elaborate pillar, hoping he looks more casual than crippled. He’s working slowly on one of the fruity liquors, and it’s sweet enough his teeth ache but he can feel the alcohol starting to melt into him. A few more of these and his leg’ll feel good enough to carry him back to his room, even if he gets lost along the way.

The alcohol does nothing to blunt the resentment, sharp in his chest. Someday he’ll learn, really learn, that Felix doesn’t give a shit about him. He’ll learn not to care. He can hear him laughing. The crowd parts, and for a moment, he can see the red hair across the room as he holds court.

Anger twists ugly through his gut. He finishes his drink.

“How sad,” says an unfamiliar voice at his shoulder. “Your glass is empty.”

Mildmay looks over. The man is pale and foreign-looking, and he wears too much powder around his eyes. A golden necklace chokes him like a serpent, and his hands are heavy with rings. A wizard of the Mirador.

“It’s a fucking tragedy,” Mildmay agrees.

The wizard smiles. His eyes are warm. He wants something. “A tragedy with a simple solution. Shall we?”

He lifts an empty glass of his own.

Mildmay glances helplessly across the room. He sees Felix and his sycophants. Slender hands, sharp smile. He sees Felix lean in and whisper something into a man’s ear. And the bastard’s hand is far too familiar on Felix’s arm.

Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck all of them. Mildmay raises his empty glass and says, “Simple sounds good to me.”

Nothing’s ever that simple, of course. Because he’s barely limped two steps after the man before a familiar hand clamps down on his shoulder.

“Pardon me for interrupting,” Felix purrs, dangerous as a tiger. “I need to speak with my brother.”

The other wizard’s eyebrows soar sky-high. “Felix. Charming as ever, I see.”

“Same to you,” Felix says, and Mildmay isn’t looking up but he can hear that poisonous smile in his voice.

The other wizard must hear it too, and decides Mildmay’s company isn’t worth the fight. He raises his empty glass again in mock toast, and turns away. 

Felix waits a moment, hand still tight around Mildmay’s shoulder, so he can feel every lump of metal digging into his clavicle, and then pushes towards the door. “I’m tired,” he says, sounding far too awake. “We’re leaving.”

He steers Mildmay from the banquet hall. And normally Mildmay would be all for that. He was born tired of fake laughter and fancy cakes. But right now, Mildmay’s pissed.

They’re halfway down a side hall, with no one around, before Mildmay finally musters the nerve to tear out of Felix’s grasp. Before his voice finally unsticks from his throat. “What the fuck,” he hisses. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Felix whirls, face pinched. “My problem? I’m watching out for my little brother—you can hold the gratitude. You have no idea who that was.”

“A snake in a stupid robe. Like everyone in that room.” He shrugs, sullen. Fuck this. He should have stayed in their chambers to drink alone and sulk. His hand cramps, and he realizes he’s still holding that empty glass.

Felix is shaking his head, patronizing, infuriating. “He wanted more than conversation from you.”

“So what?” Mildmay spits. The look of shock on Felix’s face would be gratifying, if he weren’t still so hurt and angry. “So what if he wanted to tumble me? You can throw yourself on every pretty cock in the room and I can’t even _talk_ to a man?”

“Exactly,” Felix snaps, stalking forward. “Is there a problem with that?”

Mildmay stares, frozen, caught in Felix’s yellow stare like a rabbit, then caught with Felix’s hand in his collar like a fucking fool. Well fuck, he thinks, you wanted his attention, didn’t you Milly-fox, and then he can’t think of anything because Felix’s mouth is crashing onto his, and his mind blanks out in white-hot shock.  
Everything’s all teeth and heat and blood pounding in his ears.

The glass slips from his fingers. Shatters.

Felix jumps back, hand to his mouth, no longer red but pale as ice. He swallows audibly and straightens his shoulders and fuck, Mildmay never expects it to hurt so much seeing Felix put the mask back on. But it always does. Felix’s voice is too steady when he says, “I apologize. I was out of line.”

That ugly feeling surges back through Mildmay’s veins. Takes control of him. Like he’s haunting his own body, standing outside of himself and watching himself say, “And if I said you weren’t?”

He takes a step forward. Shards of glass crunch under his boot.

Felix’s eyes shutter. He’s gone distant inside and Mildmay can’t read him. “I’d say you’re an idiot,” Felix says, quietly. “And that we should take this to my room.”

He reaches out, nearly touches Mildmay’s cheek, then turns and stalks down the hall. Mildmay follows, leaving the glittering glass behind them.

They don’t talk as they return to Felix’s chambers. Mildmay feels like anything he says will fracture the tension thrumming silent between them. It’s a bond deeper and darker than the obligation, this ugly feeling that chains him to Felix.

They don’t talk, and that gives Mildmay space to panic. To twist in on himself. Kethe. He can barely admit he wants this, and as far as he knows, he’s not going to get it. He’ll put his hand out and Felix will cut his wrist with a sneer. They’ll get to the room and Felix will close the door just to yell at him in private, or he’ll change his mind, or—

The door closes, and Felix slams him against it. Mildmay flinches, the impact jarring his leg, but then Felix is kissing him and he can’t think of anything else. Can’t feel anything else. This kiss is slow and languorous, soft yet insistent. A question and a promise. Felix pulls on his lower lip, licks the corner of his mouth, opens him up with practiced ease.

Mildmay groans, and kisses back, until he can’t breathe anymore.

Felix pulls back, and fuck, Mildmay’s never seen him looks like that. Eyes shining, lips slack and wet, this insane _wonderment_ on his face. And Mildmay put that there.

“I want to fuck you,” Felix says, low and desperate. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this too.”

And he’s leaning on the obligation. Fuck him. The magic draws the choked confession out like razor blades from Mildmay’s throat: “I’m not gonna tell you to stop.”

Felix groans, and buries his face in Mildmay’s neck. He kisses him there, wet, hard. His hands crest over Mildmay’s shoulders, skate down his arms, tighten around his wrists. He straightens up, and walks backwards, and leads him into the bedroom.

Mildmay’s heart has never beat faster, his blood drugged up on this cocktail of want and fear. He stumbles once, but Felix catches him. They stop beside the bed, and Mildmay’s hands clench uselessly in Felix’s grip and this is the part normally where he’d be cracking jokes or taking his partner by the waist and kissing them senseless, proving he’s somebody more than a limp body hooked out of the gutter.

But Felix isn’t just anyone. Felix is important. And every move Mildmay makes is a move he can fuck up.

He swallows and says, “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“That’s fine,” Felix murmurs. His hands fall to Mildmay’s jacket, easing open the buttons. His hands look so pale against the black fabric. “I’ll make it good for you.”

Kethe. That’s not. Mildmay touches Felix’s face, smooth skin and a hint of stubble. Tangles his hand in soft, curly hair and nearly dies at how Felix leans into that. “Don’t need it to be good,” Mildmay says roughly. “Long as it’s you.”

Felix’s eyes widen, like something’s shattering inside him. And thank fuck he doesn’t say anything to ruin it, just kisses Mildmay’s jaw and gets to work on the rest of his clothes. 

“Sit down,” Felix says next, and there’s no magic command there but Mildmay drops like a puppet with his strings cut. Sits on the edge of the bed, sinking into the too-soft mattress and piles of blankets, to watch his brother strip himself down. As the gaudy robes come off, the silk under-layers, Mildmay can’t help noticing the echoes between them. The differences. Pale skin, red hair. Scars.

Felix doesn’t take the rings off. He picks up a phial that’s just been sitting on the bedside table, out in the open the whole time. Mildmay tries not to think about who that phial’s been out for, who else Felix has been fucking in this bed. They don’t matter, he tells himself. All that matters is this, right now, them.

That ugly feeling is like boiling oil in his veins now. He still doesn’t know if it’s jealousy or love. 

Completely bare, Felix looks no less a decadent prick. He turns, and the lamplight gilds every line of him, from his long neck to his narrow hips to his cock, hard and red. He stands in front of Mildmay, above him, and touches his chin. Tilts his face up.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says simply, effortlessly, like it’s a fact and not a bald-faced lie.

Mildmay tries turning away, embarrassed, but Felix’s grip holds him fast. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me.”

“I want to.” Felix pushes him backwards. Moves with him. “I want you.” Pushes, pulls, bare thighs brushing together, a jeweled hand on Mildmay’s chest, until Mildmay leans back against the pillows and Felix kneels between his legs. “I want to make you mine. I want you so bad it scares me.”

Mildmay swallows hard. Lets his knees fall just a bit wider. “Great. That makes two of us.”

And yeah. He likes the way Felix’s eyes flicker down, and his lips part.

He really likes the way Felix’s fingers trail down the inside of his thigh, from his knee on down, and if he didn’t know better he’d swear there was magic in it, the way the slightest touch burns through him, straight to his cock. Kethe, he’s never been harder in his life. He’s fucked plenty of people he’s wanted, and plenty of people he hasn’t, and nobody’s ever made him feel like this.

Maybe it’s the obligation, intensifying it. Maybe it’s the family resemblance. But right now Mildmay’s pretty sure it’s just the way Felix looks at him, and presses a tender kiss to the inside of his knee.

He uncorks the phial and spills the oil over his jeweled fingers. Leans up over Mildmay’s body to kiss him as his wet fingers trail again down his thighs. Mildmay’s grateful for the kiss, anything to muffle his groans, his curses, as Felix’s hand traces the base of his cock, circles his balls. His fingertips press right behind them, deep enough that the sensation pulses through Mildmay. He grabs Felix’s shoulders, his arms, afraid to grab too hard, afraid to let go. 

Felix doesn’t seem to care about that. He’s breathing in Mildmay’s ear now, thoroughly intent on his explorations. His fingers slip over Mildmay’s hole, sliding slick over sensitive skin. Mildmay groans, head falling back. Felix isn’t even touching his cock, and he’s damn near ready to burst.

“You don’t fuck anyone else in the Mirador,” Felix says suddenly, viciously, as his fingertip presses into him. Further into him. “They’re all scheming, backstabbing weasels. They don’t deserve—” He breaks off, jaw clenching, and slides his finger all the way in.

Mildmay goes rigid, adjusting to the tender intrusion, struggling to process Felix’s words. His thoughts aren’t firing right, too tangled up in the ribbons of lust curling around his bones. He can only gasp, “Is that an order?”

Felix’s mismatched eyes both flash angry, and his answer is nearly a growl. “Does it need to be?”

Thankfully he doesn’t seem to want an answer. He seems content with Mildmay’s strangled yelp as he drives two more fingers into his trembling body. He fucks half his hand into Mildmay, plenty slick but the oil only seems to let him pump deeper, faster. The rings don’t go in, but they bump against the rim of his hole, nearly pressing in. Stretching him further. Mildmay screws up his eyes, overwhelmed by the foreign pressure, the stretch, and he can’t even complain because Felix is leaning into his ear and murmuring, “Fuck, Mildmay, you’re gorgeous like this, letting me do this, you’re so _good_ for me.”

He knows exactly what Mildmay needs to hear, and Mildmay doesn’t care if it’s real or not. He digs his nails into Felix’s shoulders and gasps, “Get on with it.”

Felix gets on with it. He slides out his fingers and hooks Mildmay’s knee over his shoulder and Mildmay only has time for one breath of trepidation before Felix is pushing in. Mildmay’s never been on this end of proceedings before, and Kethe, it’s like he’s being punched, slowly, from entirely the wrong angle.

He tries to breathe with it, tries to adjust, and he’s nearly there when Felix moves and throws him entirely off-balance. He’s this close to saying stop, or wait, except Felix’s eyes are screwed shut and he’s biting his lip and he looks so beautiful, so intent, and Mildmay can’t break that for anything. Then Felix’s cock hits just the right spot inside him, and oh fuck he does not want to stop.

“Felix,” he says, before he can’t say anything more. He can only lie there, clutching uselessly at the man above him—his brother—he’s so fucked up, and the most fucked up thing is he doesn’t care about that now. He cares about Felix’s hands moving to his wrists, holding him down against the mattress, pounding deeper and deeper into him, until his body belongs to Felix as thoroughly as his soul does.

Felix rocks in deeper, then shudders. He’s still a moment, buried to the hilt inside him, and Mildmay only realizes when he collapses on top of him that he’s come. He doesn’t pull out; he stays, and lets go of Mildmay’s wrists to wrap a long hand around his cock. Mildmay groans. Felix’s fingers, the fucking rings, feel like magic against his heated skin. He’s so close already, he just needs a few more pumps, and then Felix bites his shoulder, _hard_ , and he’s done. His eyes roll back and lightning courses up his spine and he spills over Felix’s fingers and those stupid rings.

He falls back, gasping, and only then does Felix disengage. The sensation is sticky and unpleasant, but Mildmay can’t bring himself to care.

They lie entangled and silent. Eventually one of them will speak, and Mildmay figures that will ruin the mood. For now, for once, Felix seems content to just be quiet with him. He curls up behind Mildmay and runs damp fingers through his hair.

They’re both fucking idiots, Mildmay thinks. But right now, that doesn’t seem so bad.


End file.
